The door closes behind Mathew as he leaves, and Arthur watches him go through the window with a furrowed brow. He feels bad for shutting Mathew down before he truly had the chance to finish asking, but he also feels hurt. He's not ready to reopen that door, to visit the cause of his pain, and he's hurt that Mathew decided to ignore his feelings in favour of Francis. He still stings from the feeling of betrayal when he realizes that once again, Mathew has chosen Francis over him.

He pushes down the feeling of guilt and covers it with a little feeling of triump. A part of him is saying "See how it feels when no one's on your side?" It's childish and petty, and Arthur knows that, but he can't control the feeling.

The feeling of triumph dies immediately when he sees Alfred's face. Alfred doesn't look angry or frustrated, that would be easy to deal with. Instead, Alfred just looks disappointed. Alfred has grown up with a hero complex, always wanting to be the one to save or help people, and Arthur knows why.

"You know the reason Alfred wants to be hero? It's because of you. Because he wants to be to everyone else what you were to him when he was younger."

It was something Arthur had brushed off at the time, but had never truly forgotten. Over time, he'd noticed more and more how Alfred mimicked the actions Arthur himself used to do. When his younger sibling's were upset, Alfred would bring them warm milk, or rub their back, and distract them with fantastic stories, all things Arthur did for him when he was young. Arthur was proud to be Alfred's hero. That's why the look of disappointment his son's eyes felt so much worse than anger or frustration would have.

"What?"

He snaps, unable to stay quiet in the face of Alfred's disappointment. He wants Alfred to get angry, or ideally, forget about it or perhaps tell Arthur he was right, though he knows that won't happen. Alfred is uncharacteristicly still as he responds reproachfully.

"Dad, Mattie is asking for help!"

Arthur doesn't want to hear Alfred telling him he's wrong. He hates the nasty feeling that springs up inside him, the whispering voice saying Alfred is choosing Francis over him too. He tries to bite down on the nasty words that threaten to spill out, but when he speaks his tone isn't completely devoid of the bitterness.

"I can't see him right now Alfred. You know that. Why don't you go?"

Alfred looks even more reproachful, and his usual energy is returning, his hands fluttering from his side, to his hair, to his pockets, and back to his side again. Alfred starts shifting from foot to foot, but Arthur feels a little relieved at the frustration in his voice.

"Mattie didn't ask for my help, Dad, he asked for yours."

Arthur feels himself go stiff, readying for a fight, both his face and spine stiffening. He gives Alfred the face they both know means the end of the discussion. Alfred glares at Arthur and spins on his heel, as though to stomp out of the room. He pauses for a moment, and Arthur waits coldly for that last scathing comment. It doesn't come. Instead Alfred sounds quiet and resigned.

"Then at least give me Antonio's number. I'll see if him and Gil will help."

Arthur flinches at the tone and the messages hidden in the words. It feels like Alfred is saying "If I can't depend on you, then I'll call someone I can depend on." The stinging in Arthur's chest expands, and he wants to cry or shout or something. Why can't they understand? Why can't anyone seem to recognize that it hurts? Arthur doesn't want to make it worse. He doesn't think he can handle it if it does get worse, but they just don't seem to care.

Why, is it always, always, Francis?

Arthur barely keeps himself composed as he writes down his old friends phone number on a scrap of paper and all but throws it at Alfred. He doesn't wait to see if if Alfred catches it or what his reaction is, only brushes by cooly and makes his way into the study.

The best medicine for heartache is work. After all.

Alfred starts to type out a text.